|
|
|
|
|
|
cast eyes, the sensuous mouth, clear and fine in the black-stubbled face. A physical pang of that combination of lust and affection that is called love twisted her middle just below her heart. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
There was underneath Joanna's apparently placid exterior a passion as hot as the child's red head, Alinor suspected. How could it fail to be so when she had it from both the mother's and the father's side. Alinor would not deny her daughter either the joy or the pain that came with love. But Joanna was malleable. If the love could be directed toward someone who would return it and be good to her, so much the better. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Tell him also," Alinor continued, "that I will do what I can to fix Joanna's heart on Geoffrey so that both may be happy. But I will not countenance a contract for two reasons. The first is plain. If Joanna cannot love him, she must not marry him. The second is a little more subtle. I believe Joanna and Geoffrey do like each other. So, if the children know they are contracted, they may well plod along together in mild contentment. That is not enough. It is dangerous. If both do not burn for each other, there may come a time in the future when one, or both, will burn for someone else." Her eyes sought Ian's and did not find them. "Ian," she demanded, "look at me." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
He raised his eyelids. The dark eyes were wary, guarded against hurt. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"You know, none knows better from what I have heard, what comes of such feelings. Do you want to see Joanna in the place of the women you have bedded?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Alinor! Joanna is no slut!" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"She is not now. Were those women sluts at nine? Before boredom or bitterness had eaten away their souls?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Do you blame me for their state?" Ian asked heatedly. "I assure you I picked no unripe fruit. What I had fell of itself into my hand." |
|
|
|
|
|